


The Christmas Holiday Special

by hecate_01



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecate_01/pseuds/hecate_01
Summary: Erik and Christine spend Christmas Eve together.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	The Christmas Holiday Special

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: none! :-)
> 
> this is really late, and i'm very sorry. i procrastinated big time on this lmao.

“Ow – gah! Damn it!” Christine cursed as she bumped her hip against the granite kitchen countertop. Briefly pausing her jog across the room, she curled in on herself and seethed. “Ow, ow, ow,” she groaned weakly, pressing a hand against the burgeoning bruise as she made her way to the supplies closest. Shoving the small tub of Clorox wipes on a rack and shutting the door, she leaned her back against it and sighed.

“Well, at least – ow! – at least it doesn’t look like a disaster anymore,” Christine sighed, satisfied with her hard work: no dirty dishes in the sink; no sheet music or loose paper cluttering the counter; no jackets or sweatshirts on the couch, or on the floor of her bedroom – everything was neat and tidy. The little plastic Christmas tree was decorated, lit, and situated in the corner, proudly displaying its shimmer to the room and the bustling, insomniac city outside her window. Everything was in its proper place. Everything was fine and perfect.

 _‘Well, maybe not everything,’_ Christine thought, casting her gaze towards the little red and gold gift bag nestled beneath the artificial evergreen. She stepped over and apprehensively pulled aside the tissue paper and peeked in.

 _‘It’s pretty amateurish. He’s not gonna like it,’_ Christine thought, chewing at her bottom lip, dreading what was to come. But it was too late to do anything about it; he’d be here any minute. It’d be rude to cancel now, after all the effort she put into making it, and not to mention the solid hour she spent convincing and reassuring him that it’d be alright if he visited her.

_Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!_

Christine trotted over to the kitchen counter and swiped up her phone. After a brief glance at the screen, she tapped the green button.

“Hey, Erik.”

“I’m here, my angel,” a familiar, melodic voice responded; his elegant tone sent shivers down her spine.

“Ok, did you enter the code I sent you? It’ll buzz you in.”

“No, dear. I’m still in my car.”

“Uh, why?”

“I-I was wondering if you’d walk me yourself.”

“Um–”

“If it is not too inconvenient.”

“No, of course not! But why do you want me to get you?”

“Christine, while I more than appreciate your invitation to spend Christmas Eve in your company, as well as your reassurances, I am – I – my appearance will, no doubt, disturb your neighbors and the other residents of your complex. I don’t wish to be escorted out by the police.”

“Why do you say that? Is it because of the mask?”

“Well, yes–”

“Erik, it’s the 21st century. No one’s gonna care.”

“Yeah, bu–”

“And no one’s gonna call the police on you, either. A lot of people are out of town, and if anyone gives your grief, just say it’s for a costume party, or something.”

“A costume party of two?”

“Well, yeah,” Christine giggled. “Erik, it’s going to be okay. We’ll have a nice time.”

“Oh, Christine, your words have all but melted my heart. However,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I do have quite a few things to carry, and would appreciate your assistance, anyway.”

Christine smiled softly.

“Alright, Erik. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“I’m parked next to your car. It’s the red Toyota Corolla, correct?”

“Yeah. I’ll head out now.”

“Take care, and may your arrival be swift.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” she laughed as she slid her feet into a pair of blue slippers. “See you in a bit.”

“I’ll be waiting, my love,” Erik cooed.

Christine hung up, slipped her arms through her dark blue parka and, ensuring she had her key in her pocket, slipped out of her apartment.

She raced down the halls, her feet thumping against the tacky carpet. Her breaths were short and her heartbeats were quick, ringing in her ears and seemingly echoing off the manila-colored walls.

_'He's actually here. He actually came.'_

Christine’s mind buzzed and her nerves bolted as she impatiently waited for that rickety, old elevator. She attempted to do that box breathing exercise Madame Giry taught her a while back: in for four; hold for four; out for four.

In for four – ding! the doors slide open; hold for four – press the button; out for four – begin the descent. In for four – Christine closes her eyes and blocks out the harsh, empty light of the fluorescent bulb; hold for four – reach the bottom level; out for four – the metallic curtains part and reveal the garish lobby, adorned with outdated, floral wallpaper and overstuffed furniture. Christine cursed; her heart was still racing.

She pushed against the heavy main door and squeezed her way out onto the icy sidewalk. Graphite-gray clouds obscured the night sky; white flurries of delicate snowflakes billowed and swirled above her. As she carefully made her way towards her car, she felt the cold nip her cheeks and nose. She was unimaginably thankful, in that moment, that her parking spot was right up front.

 _‘Come to think of it, didn’t he say he parked next to me?’_ she thought. _‘But guest parking is on the other side of the lot.’_

Sure enough, a black Maserati was in the parking space to the left of her car. She hugged herself as she shuffled up to it, her teeth chattering.

The driver’s side door flung open and out stepped Erik, clothed entirely in darkness: black turtleneck, black tailored pants, black leather gloves; a similarly colored trench coat hugged his slim figure.

“Christine, you’re shivering!”

His long legs made quick strides towards her, his boots clacking against the asphalt. With a deft movement, he slipped off his coat and, leaning down, wrapped it around her.

“Oh, you poor thing. Please forgive my selfish request,” he pleaded softly.

His amber eyes caught the faint flicker of the streetlight and, even in the cold darkness, glowed like incandescent embers.

“No, it’s alright, Erik,” she reassured, snuggling into the long coat – she was practically swimming in it. “I know you’re nervous about walking into the building, and you’ve got stuff to carry, too. I don’t mind. I really don’t.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked, his long, spindly fingers fidgeting as he adjusted his porcelain mask; they trailed up higher and smoothed his slicked-back wig.

“Don't talk like that. We’re here to celebrate Christmas and make merry, right?”

“That’s right, dear Christine. I’ve been eagerly awaiting this day, so let’s delay no further! Help me unload, and lead the way.”

“Uh, ok, but maybe you should move your car. This is residential parking, and that’s someone’s spot. You could get towed.”

“I’d like to see them try. Now, would you carry these for me, please?” Erik asked, opening the trunk of his car and pulling out three large, plain, white, paper shopping bags.

“Sure,” Christine said, taking them from him, her fingers brushing over his gloved ones. “Oh geez, they’re pretty heavy.”

“I apologize, darling. Normally, I wouldn’t want to burden you with this sort of task, but I also have these to carry in.”

Erik lifted out two more large bags and, with a grunt, slid their twine handles up his arm, catching them in the crook of his elbow.

“What’re all these bags for?”

“They’re your presents, of course. And now, to bring in our dinner.”

“My presents?! All of these are presents?!”

“Well, yes, Christine,” Erik answered casually. He picked up a black, Dutch oven pot from the trunk. “I took care to ensure this wouldn’t leak, and I’m pleased that my labors paid off; I spent so much time preparing this bœuf bourguignon, it would’ve been a shame if it spilled.”

Erik shut the trunk, locked the car, and joined Christine at her side.

“Bœuf bourguignon?”

“Have you not had it before? It’s a beef stew simmered in red wine, and is garnished with mushrooms, bacon, pearl onions, and other hearty ingredients. It’s very suitable for a chilly winter night of this nature. Christine, dear, we must get you inside. You’ll catch a cold.”

“We’re almost there,” Christine reassured as they stepped onto the curb. “And how much money did you spend on these gifts?! Five big bags in a ton!”

“Don’t think much of it. When we arrive, I will put the stew on low heat; it won’t take long, but you can open your presents in the meantime. You’ll see what I've selected for you.”

“Well, alright, but you didn’t need to get this much stuff, you know,” Christine mumbled as she punched in a code at a keypad mounted on the wall. When the machine gave a great buzz, she pressed a large, blue button next to it. The doors swung open. “It’ll make it easier to get through,” she explained as she entered the main lobby.

Erik followed closely behind; a rigid, brisk walk took the place of his typical fluid, graceful step. His bright eyes feverishly scanned the room and shot glances over his shoulder.

“Erik, no one’s here.”

“I- I see that. My, what an ugly lobby.”

“Erik!” Christine chided, her lips pulled back into an amused smile.

“When was this place last renovated?” he asked as they made their way towards the elevator. Christine pressed a button with her elbow; Erik stood to the side, averting his face to a wall.

“I don’t know, maybe the 90s?”

“I can tell.”

“Erik, this isn’t a luxury apartment complex. It’s not gonna be the fanciest place.”

“They should make an effort, at the very least,” he criticized as the doors slid open. When Christine signaled that the coast was clear, he swiftly entered. “Especially considering a famous opera singer is in their midsts.”

“I’m not a famous opera singer, Erik,” Christine mumbled, pushing the button for her floor. She sighed when he turned his back to the closed doors.

 _‘Really can’t reassure this man,_ ’ she thought.

The elevator groaned, and began its painful trudge.

“Not famous, yet,” Erik corrected.

“I highly doubt any of these people even care, or have the time, to see an opera. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just another no-name.”

“By the end of next year, the world will know your name, Christine Daaé.”

“That’s a bit overwhelming,” she chuckled as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “This is my floor.”

“Is anyone there?”

Christine peeked her head out and looked both ways.

“No, don’t see anyone.”

“Then let’s go. I don’t want to be out here for a minute longer.”

Christine hurriedly led the way to her apartment.

“You feeling okay?” she asked, stopping at one of the doors and signalling it was hers.

“Yes, yes. I am,” he whispered, still casting glances over his shoulder. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“You’re not an inconvenience. I’m sorry you’re anxious right now. But I’m glad that you’re here, though.”

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing to Erik to enter first, and, after stepping inside, closed it behind her.

“I always want to spend time with you, angel. And besides, it does me good to go outside my mire of a home every once in a while.”

“Yeah, I figured the same. Take your shoes off,” Christine ordered as she hung up their coats. Erik nodded, pulling off his gloves, then unlacing his leather, ankle-high boots. He stood up straight and tall, his eyes scanning her little apartment.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope it isn’t _too_ hideous or anything,” she joked, setting the bags down in front of the little Christmas tree. She moved her own gift to him next to the coffee table, and furtively looked over her shoulder.

He was putting the pot on the stove, his back turned to her. She signed with relief, grabbed a throw blanket, and discreetly covered the little bag.

“Oh no, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it, dear. It’s very cozy,” Erik reassured, all the while opening cupboards in rapid succession.

 _‘Well, he’s certainly making himself at home,’_ Christine thought as she stood up, making her way towards the two remaining bags that were left near the coat rack.

“What’re you looking for?” she asked.

“Do you have coffee or tea? I figured you would like a warm beverage.”

“Oh yeah, in there,” Christine said, gesturing towards a closed cabinet. “I just bought some hot chocolate, it’s in there, too.”

“What would you like?”

“Oh, Erik, no, you’re my guest. I should be making you a drink.”

“No, I insist. I want to do this for you. What would you like for me to make?”

“Hot chocolate,” Christine acquiesced, silently cursing his stubborn streak. “Uh, you can help yourself to anything there.”

“Hm, I’m in the mood for a cup of Earl Grey. You can start taking your presents out, but please refrain from opening any.”

Christine nodded as she carried the last of the bags and placed them with the others.

“You want me to put on a Christmas movie?”

“Do anything you’d like, my angel.”

“Alright.”

Christine turned on the DVD player for her TV. Deciding on _A Christmas Story_ , she popped the disc in.

“Have you seen this one before?” she asked. Erik turned his head to peek at the menu screen.

“No, I can’t say that I have watched it, or any Christmas movie, for that matter.”

“What?! You’re kidding,” Christine cried incredulously. “Not a single one?”

“No, my angel. I haven’t,” Erik responded solemnly, placing two mugs on the coffee table, but not before laying out two coasters. “This is my first time celebrating Christmas, after all.”

“Oh, Erik. Why didn't you tell me?”

He shrugged, taking his seat on the couch. Sighing, Christine started the movie and put on a soft smile.

“Well, we’ll just have to have a movie marathon tonight!” she cheered. Erik smiled at her enthusiasm, although his eyes still shone with a melancholic glimmer.

“Why don’t you open your presents, Christine?”

She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Which bag should I start with?”

“Any one of them’s fine; there’s no particular order to them.”

“Well, then,” she deliberated as she plopped down onto the floor. “I’ll do this one!”

“Very well, my dear.”

Christine pulled the nearest bag to her and, one by one, began taking out boxes of varying sizes, wrapped in black, silver, and gold paper.

“Black isn’t really a Christmas-y color,” Christine teased.

“Please forgive me. I’ll ensure to select a more appropriate paper next year.”

“No need to apologize! It’s not a crime against Christmas, or anything. It’s just...it’s just very, you know, ‘Erik’.”

“Oh–”

“I mean that in a good way, of course! And silver and gold are Christmas-y colors! Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s alright, my dear. I understand.”

“Ok, time to open these up!” she laughed, picking up a small, rectangular box. “I wonder what could be in here…”

Erik smiled enthusiastically as she tore off the wrapping paper. Little by little, patches of aquamarine surfaced. Christine gasped when the letters ‘Tiffany & Co.’ were revealed.

“Erik, you did not!”

“Open it, angel.”

She could hear the smile in his words. Her mind raced as she pulled off the top of the box to reveal a bracelet, strung with the most perfect pearls she had ever seen; they looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie. The silver clasp twinkled, enticing her with its expensive charm.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God! Erik!”

“Do you like it?” he chuckled warmly.

“Ye-I,” she sputtered, choking on her words. “Yes, yes I do! It’s very beautiful, but how much did this cost?"

“Don’t think anything of it,” he reassured, his hand gestured dismissively. “It was barely anything.”

“Barely anything?!” Christine gaped. Her bewildered eyes drifted from the bracelet to the other boxes and bags. “Erik, I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you not like it?”

“I love it! I’ve just never received a gift like this before. What if I lose it?”

“Don’t worry about that, dear. I can always buy you a replacement. Here, why don’t you put it on and open another gift?”

He leaned down, took the box from her, and offered her his hand; when she reached for it, he wrapped the pearls around her wrist and closed the clasp.

“Oh, good. It fits you.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He ran his thumb along her knuckles and smiled at her wonderment.

“When I saw it, I immediately thought of you. It compliments your complexion very nicely, but then again,” he whispered. “You look beautiful in everything.”

Her cheeks flushed sanguine-red. She barely stuttered out a ‘thank you’, before briefly turning her attention back to the TV and selecting another box at random.

“I hope you enjoy this gift, as well.”

“I’m sure I will,” Christine responded as she unwrapped the gift, both eager and hesitant to discover what’s inside.

“I’ve been planning to buy you one of these for a while now.”

“Oh real– HUH?!” she exclaimed, her heart nearly stopping when she read the logo. “CARTIER?!”

“Yes, dear. Open it.”

With trembling hands, she carefully lifted the top off of the box. Inside, a gold, rectangular watch with black leather straps was nestled securely in a red cushion. Christine gently took it out and turned it in her hands, examining it. The cabochon was adorned with a little blue sapphire.

“Do you like it? It’s a Tank watch – here let me wind it up for you – Jacqueline Kennedy owned one.”

Christine could barely move; her mouth hung open and her eyes still beheld the Cartier logo with unblinking surprise. She barely registered Erik's buckling the watch on her other wrist.

“Surprised, aren’t you?”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“Is it to your liking?”

“Y-yes it is! It’s beautiful!”

Erik smiled warmly at her.

“Are you ready to open the rest of your gifts?”

“Yes!”

Christine mentally prepared herself for the rest of the boxes and bags.

 _‘If they’re as expensive as these ones, I’m gonna have a heart attack by the end of the night,’_ she thought.

Christine went through each of the bags, unwrapping the boxes under Erik’s watchful, yet excited gaze. She was floored with each gift she opened; hypothesizing the amount he spent on them made her head spin.

She opened three Mont Blanc pens.

“These pens come with cartridges, and you use the inkwell to refill that one. You won’t ever have to buy another puny, cheap ballpoint again; these will last a lifetime. Do let me know when you need refills.”

“Oh, you don’t have t–”

“I insist.”

She discovered two more Tiffany boxes, which contained a pearl necklace and a pair of earrings.

“They’re meant to go with your bracelet. Of course, you can wear them separately.”

She could only nod mutely.

Her brain was swimming by the time she had opened all the presents. Diamonds, sapphires, Chanel, 24K gold, Louboutin heels, Burberry, Prada dominated her senses; she could barely hear the movie over the loud glamour that surrounded her.

 _‘I knew he was rich, but holy shit,’_ she thought.

“Did you enjoy your presents?” Erik asked.

She was sitting on the couch next to him, nestled into his side. She smiled through a bite of warm, decadent bœuf bourguignon.

“Yes! Thank you so much, Erik! They were all so beautiful, and not to mention – uh – _pretty_ expensive. I love the presents, don’t get me wrong, but you didn’t have to spend all that money on me. You really didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, Christine. You may think me prodigal, but I only wish to give you every fine and becoming thing the world has to offer. And besides,” he said smoothly. “When you become a world-famous opera singer, these sorts of gifts will be commonplace for you.”

“Oh, wow,” she chuckled softly. “I-I really love the gifts Erik, and I appreciate what you do for me, but how am I supposed to pay you back?”

“You aren’t to pay me back, Christine,” he reassured softly. “They’re called gifts for a reason.”

He kissed her shoulder. Her stomach began to knot and tingle, her heart beating wildly.

“If you insist, but – uh – I want you to have this, anyway.”

She placed her bowl on the coffee table and, reaching over, pulled off the blanket and picked up the gift bag. She hastily placed it in Erik’s lap and swiped her hands away bashfully.

“What is this?” he asked, lifting the bag and scrutinizing it with a raised brow.

“A present,” Christine answered in a quiet, shaky voice.

"Oh dear, I told you not to buy me anything.”

“And I didn’t. Well, not really. Just open it.”

Erik’s wide-eyed expression was unreadable. He tentatively pulled the tissue paper out of the bag with trembling hands. Christine bit her bottom lip and took deep breaths. Wordlessly, he pulled out a long, red scarf.

“It’s not much, I know,” Christine started. “I made it myself. I – uh – joined a local knitting club a couple of months ago and, yeah, I’m not really good, I know, but I thought it’d be fun to make you something – it’s kinda ugly, yeah, but it’s really soft, right? It’s made of merino wool. I know you don’t really wear a lot of colors, but I figured you’d look good in red, and look!”

She jumped up from her seat on the couch and rushed towards the coat rack, swiping her own red scarf off one of the hooks.

“We match!” she exclaimed as she held it up, laughing nervously. “I-If you don’t like it, that’s okay. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m sorry I didn’t get you more stuff, or anything.”

She stood there before him, chewing on her lip, searching his face for a sign.

 _‘Come on, say something, please,’_ her mind begged.

Erik’s wide eyes sparkled and his mouth opened and closed, though no words came out. His shoulders quivered, his fingers curled tightly around the fabric and, bringing it to his cheek, gave a broken sob.

“Oh God, is it that bad? I’m sor–”

“No! No, i-it’s perfect. It’s perfect,” he hiccuped, tears flooding his fiery eyes. He buried his face into the scarf, his back shaking with each muffled cry.

Christine sat next to Erik, watching him shiver and sob. He clutched the scarf as if he was a child reunited with his lost teddy bear, as if it was a life line. She placed a hand on his back and rubbed reassuring circles.

“It’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect,” he cried. Sniffling, he pulled away to meet her gaze; tears streamed down his red cheek.

“Y-you made this just for me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Christine nodded.

“You bought the wool, j-just to make me a scarf?”

“The nicest wool I could find.”

“You spent… you spent time on this, for me?”

“Yeah, quite a while actually. I wanted it to be perfect,” she laughed sheepishly.

“How long?” Erik whispered.

“A couple weeks or so.”

“A-and… it’s really for me?”

“Yes, Erik. I bought the wool and knit the scarf specifically for you. No one else. It’s your scarf now, if you want it.”

He sobbed and hugged it close to his chest.

“All for me… Christine made this, just for me.”

“Are you okay, Erik? I didn’t think it’d have such an impact on you.”

Erik sniffled and smiled softly.

“Christine, it’s more than I could ever have asked for. Thank you, a million times, thank you!”

He grasped her hand tightly and kissed it. Pulling away, she lifted it to his cheek and wiped his tears with her thumb. His entire body seemed to sigh as he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes.

“I’m glad you like it, but why’re you crying? I mean, it’s just a scarf–”

“Don’t talk like that!” he chided defensively. “It’s more – much more – than that. It’s the first present I’ve ever received in my entire life!”

Christine’s eyes widened.

“Wait, what?”

“And Christine made it, too! You made it for me! I’ll never find another like it! It’s just for me!”

“You’ve never received a gift before? Never?”

He shook his head and clutched the scarf even tighter.

“Oh, Erik. I’m so sorry. I wish I had known. I would’ve–”

“It’s alright now,” Erik interrupted, smiling brightly. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and nuzzled into it. “I have a gift now, for the first time in my life, and it’s a gift from you. I couldn’t have asked for anything more wonderful!”

“You don’t have to wear it now. We’re indoors–”

“I want to wear it forever and for eternity.”

Christine smiled. She placed her hands on both of his cheeks, eyeing the mask.

“May I?”

His breath hitched and, nodding, allowed her to remove it. She carefully set it down onto the coffee table, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Erik, I love you.”

Christine pulled him close and met his lips. He moaned and immediately leaned into her, wrapping one arm around her waist and tangling the other in her brunette hair.

Erik wasn’t particularly good at kissing; his lips would usually freeze up, marked with the occasional insecure mimicking of her movements.

He turned his head slightly to the side, and pushed against her. She felt his warm tears wet her cheeks, and gently sucked at his bottom lip momentarily. His hands trembled violently, but held her so close; his entire body shook like a leaf when her tongue swiped across his lip. He reciprocated, and moaned loudly when their tongues brushed against each other.

He swiftly pulled away, but kept his arms around her.

“Erik, what’s wrong?”

“I feel,” he panted. “I feel like my heart will stop, and I’ll die of love.”

“I think you’re just overwhelmed. This night’s been quite the emotional roller coaster for you. Wanna just take it easy and watch movies?”

He nodded.

“Could – would you grant me a wish?”

“Yeah, anything you need.”

“Can I hold you while we watch?”

“I already assumed we were gonna cuddle. I’ll go get some more blankets.”

Christine restarted _A Christmas Story_ , on account of neither of them really paid attention the first time around. She took off the bracelet and watch, as she suspected she would fall asleep at some point, and didn’t want to accidentally crush them. Erik refused to remove his scarf.

She rested her head on his chest and draped one leg over both of his. He wrapped an arm around her back and nestled his hand in her hair, his fingers brushing through and playing with her curls. Christine pulled the blankets up to her chin.

“Do you like the movie?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” Erik whispered, smiling.

“Are you happy?”

“I’m in paradise.”

She giggled at his propensity for extremes.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you happy, my angel?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Did I make you happy?”

“Yes, Erik. You make me indescribably happy.”

“You make me happy, Christine,” he cooed, kissing her temple. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She knew it was pointless trying to argue with him there.

His discarded mask was still on the coffee table. She looked up at his face and smiled softly.

“What is it, Christine?”

“I love you.”

“I...I love you, too. More than anything.”

She kissed his neck and laid her head back onto his chest. His rhythmic heartbeat and gentle caresses warmed her soul as she watched the midnight snow freeze and flurry outside her window.


End file.
